‘The rest of the kingdom will be long wrecked before they retreat, and Arowan sunk into the gorge with it. This is the reverse of our intentions. The right thing now … the right thing is to give up the fight. Let our pride go.’

Tarfel nodded, breathing deep, then straightened the clasp of his cloak. With trembling hands, he unfastened the Keeper’s chain from his belt and held it out to Chel.

‘You’re not serious!’ Rennic was up from the wall, his hands up, in placation or threat. ‘There’s still a way to win here, to come out—’

‘Vedren, you’ve been a sterling friend.’ Tarfel extended the chain to Chel. He took it with numb fingers. ‘Mind things for me until Matil comes round, eh? Perhaps I’ll see you soon.’

He started walking toward the steps, holding himself very straight. Chel stared at the heavy, ornate chain in his hands, then threw off his lethargy. He lurched to the nearest guard, told him to hold the chain, and stumbled after Tarfel.

Rennic got there first. He blocked the stairway with his body, towering over the slender prince, a quivering wall of furious muscle. ‘I will not let you go. I will not let you give yourself to them, after all we’ve suffered to keep you alive!’

‘Get out of the way, Master Rennic. It’s precisely because of that that I must go.’

‘My friends are wrecked, you worthless shit! Maimed, fled or dead. Your death would make their loss for nothing!’

Tarfel stood very still, staring up at the brooding hawk-nosed face. He swallowed, then said, ‘Then there’s something you should know. Whisper’s death: it was absolutely my fault. I meant what I said at the crossroads. Were it not for my self-involvement, my stupidity, she’d still be alive today.’

Rennic stopped moving, and something broke in his eyes.

A ferocious punch sent the prince flying backward, thumping hard against the stone.

‘You gutless fucker,’ Rennic said, his voice low and eyes dark. ‘Nobody kills you but me!’

‘Rennic!’ Chel was there at last, ponderous, weak. ‘Rennic!’ He threw himself in front of the big man, trying to drive him back as he loomed over the prince. The guards were moving, sluggish from shock. Chel wrestled against him, lacking the strength to do any more than slow his advance. Images of the fight in the mud of the crossroads flashed before his eyes, his mouth full of dirt, Rennic’s foot on his neck. A repeat seemed on the cards.

A knee drove into his battered midriff, then rough hands heaved him out of the way. A knife flashed from Rennic’s belt, but the guards were on him, a pair of them leaping and driving him to the stone beside Chel. A third kicked the knife from his hand, a sword-blade to his throat.